Two princes
by Norhel
Summary: Eomer prince of Rohan and Legolas prince of mirkwood... out in the fields of Rohan in the night. Yeah, i couldn't think of a worst cliche:)


Legolas looked around in dismay. 'Why did they run away, Eomer?'' Eomer sighed. 'To be honest, I don't know. But if Shadowfax is near and he is loose.' 'Most likely. He is wild and wouldn't stay in the stable. 'Great. Then they must've heard him.' Eomer sighed again and sat down on the ground. He tried to clean his sword from the stains of the orc blood. 'Are we staying here?' Legolas asked. 'What do you suggest we do? The way back is far too long to walk after the fight.' 'Ah yes. I forgot that it is hard for Men to travel at night,' Legolas said, kneeling by Eomer. Eomer smiled. 'Men of Rohan can see in the dark as well as the cats. But I do admit that I am tired. Aren't you?' Legolas didn't answer. He was looking at the sky. Eomer raised his head too and looked at the moon. It was full. The fields of Rohan turned silver. Unable to resist, Eomer lowered his gaze and looked at the Elf. Legolas was smiling and his eyes shone. He could see something in the sky that no Men could notice or understand. Elves. Eomer heard about them from his grandmother. She was from Lossarnach and often told him tales about the Eldar. She didn't fear them - she worshipped them. And Eomer always listened to her stories with fascination, hoping that maybe one day he will see one of those magnificent creatures and wondering if they where really the fairest and yet the strongest creatures in Middle-Earth. Now he almost hoped this dream never came true. It seemed to Eomer that sitting close to him was not a creature of blood and bones but the moonlight incarnated - beautiful, cold, and so far, seeming to be close only to tease you, like the reflection of the moon on the surface of the water in a well. Pull yourself together, Marshal. Rider of the Mark. Heir to the throne. The king's nephew. Yet does it all matter, here and now?.. Legolas was always amused by the strange logic of Men. They understood that they were fascinated by Elves - but they always failed to understand that it was not because the Elves were so special. It was because the Elves were different and strange - and that could lead a mind that was bright enough to a simple yet obvious conclusion - Elves could long for Men in the same way. Like he did. He had just watched Eomer in the battle and now they were sitting here, in the grass, so close. Legolas closed his eyes. Eomer did not have the beauty of the Elves - he didn't need it. He was strong and valiant; he was handsome after the manner of Men, and so. so manly. That was the thing Legolas always longed for and never found in any of his kin. He opened his eyes and looked at Eomer, at his hands, holding the sword. He imagined what it would be like to feel the touch of these hands, to feel them untie his belt. He bit his lip. Control yourself. Legolas Greenleaf born under the tree. Eomer ran his fingers through his hair - the hair of beautiful pale gold color. Legolas looked at his braids and sighed. 'I wish I lived in Gondor,' Eomer said, breaking the silence.' I could have had my hair cut.' 'Oh no!' Legolas cried out. Eomer raised an eyebrow. 'Uh, you see, we Elves, uh, don't like to hear somebody criticizing traditions of his country,' said Legolas. "What a stupid thing to say! Now, now he'll think you're so haughty because you are an Elf, and he'll stand up and leave." 'Sorry,' Eomer said. 'Forgive me.' began Legolas at the same moment. The elf felt extremely awkward as the Rider looked at him with amusement. He laughed. Legolas looked at him and felt that he was losing self-control again. Quick, say something! 'You're a great fighter.' 'Ah,' Eomer said, 'no wonder you're saying that. Elves are good at marksmanship but when it comes to swords.' 'What?' 'Isn't it so?' Eomer asked innocently. His dark hazel eyes were full of sparks. 'Of course not.' Eomer jumped up. 'Let's check it.' 'What?' asked Legolas, standing up too. 'Let's have a fight. You have your sword, right?' 'Yes, but.' 'I'm not suggesting we fight to death!' Eomer cried out, laughing again.' Are you afraid?' How dares he! Legolas realized, with horror, that his ears were turning pink. 'I'm not!' he cried out and drew his sword. The problem was that, of course, Eomer's words were not true when it came to all Elves, but where Legolas prince of Mirkwood was concerned, it was pretty fair. That's why he was so angry. "Because you don't want him to know your flaws!' the inner voice said. Eomer was as good at sword fighting as a Man could be. He was a natural and had a lot of time to practice and fight, even though he was young. The sword flew out of the Elf's hands. Damn. Eomer grinned. 'You're supposed to beg for mercy,' he said. 'Never!' Legolas cried out without even thinking. Suddenly he was lying in the grass, Eomer pinning him to the ground, sword in one hand. His braids touching Legolas's neck. oh, who cares about the braids! No matter how he tried he couldn't distract himself from the fact that he was feeling the Rider's hot body pressed against his, that he saw his triumphant smile and radiant eyes. 'I guess I am supposed to cut your head off,' Eomer mocked. He cast away the sword and released Legolas. Legolas, breathing heavily, stared at the marshal who lay on the ground close to him, looking as a wolf, ready to leap. 'Are you teasing me, Eomer?' he breathed out and felt frightened by what he dared to say. Eomer stretched out his arm and touched the elf's cheek. 'Maybe. a bit. you don't want me to?' 'No!' snapped Legolas. Oh dear, oh that was wrong, a tiro nin, Varda! 'So. this means you want me to stop here or to move on?' Legolas looked at the eyes of the Man, unable to believe what he just heard. maybe he got something wrong. after all, Eomer's first language was not Westron. maybe. The Rider's hands gripped his shoulders. Eomer pulled his body close to himself and kissed Legolas on the neck while one of his hands slid down to the elf's waist and started to untie his belt. Legolas heard himself moan with pleasure. 'How I wanted this.' Eomer kissed the Elf's ear, while unbuttoning his shirt. 'What do you think I felt when I saw a creature out of a song rise out of the grass of Rohan?' 'I don't know.' 'I will show you.' 


End file.
